


The Moon Sings Me to Sleep

by BitchYouKnowMaineisMyJam



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Apologies, Gen, Logic | Logan Sanders Angst, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-16 13:34:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29701320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BitchYouKnowMaineisMyJam/pseuds/BitchYouKnowMaineisMyJam
Summary: Short heartbreaking Logan angst with no context. Trigger warnings: Suicide
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	The Moon Sings Me to Sleep

It always felt like it was my fault, that Roman died. I suppose it was something of a survivor's guilt. I kept telling myself that I should have known he would try to fight the assailant back. I should have known that it was too dangerous a situation to be handled. I should have done something. I should have died instead. I knew every one of these thoughts was illogical and in a clear state of mind I could tell myself that there was nothing anyone could have done. In a clear state of mind I could properly grieve for my friend. In a clear state of mind I would have recognized the danger I was in. But a clear state of mind no longer existed.   
I didn't want to get better; it felt like a punishment that nature had bestowed upon me. Roman's death was my fault and therefore I deserved to feel all of this pain. It had taken me weeks to write out each of the letters; I could never quite find the right words to express what I felt. I settled for apologies. To everyone. Including Roman. He was gone and I knew there was no point in writing to him, but I did.   
I wrote to Virgil and apologized for the times we argued and for the times I had labeled him with names like defeatist. I wrote to Patton and apologized for every time I had written him off as irrelevant or unimportant. I wrote to Thomas and apologized for being incapable of being a better friend and for failing him nearly every time he let himself rely on me. And finally I wrote to Roman. I apologized to him for our arguments, for ignoring him, for always assuming he was automatically and incalculably wrong, and more than anything I apologized for his death. I had left each of the letters outside of their respective rooms.   
It was beautiful the night that I had decided to do it. It was as though the Earth itself were agreeing with my decision. I had positioned the rope and the stool so I could see out of the window when I decided it was time. I stood on the stool and looped the rope around my throat. I watched the sky outside for what felt like hours. It was clear and sharp; deep, velvety black with bright pinpricks of light. The moon was full and bright, glowing warmly, invitingly. The trees were silhouetted black against the expanse, invisible besides the absence of stars. The grass looked deep at night, something I was familiar with. It was dark and unfathomable. Everything was silent and peaceful, and it was with that in mind that I tipped the stool carefully and gently. It fell to the ground with a gentle thud, and I followed soon after. Or atleast, gravity tried to make me.  
The noose did it’s job, catching me by the throat. And it hurt. Oh god why hadn’t I thought that it would hurt? White lights were popping in front of my eyes. I was distantly aware of the rope chafing up the skin of my neck, that my legs were flailing instinctively, that my hands were grasping and clawing at the noose, but through the pain and the panic there was nothing I could do. What the hell had I done? I didn’t want to die. I wanted to stop the pain, not make more of it. What was I thinking? My death would just hurt everyone more. Patton, Virgil, and Thomas, they didn’t want me to die either. God I was so selfish. But there was nothing I could do now, it was too late.   
My legs slowed, and gradually stopped moving. My arms fell limply by my sides, and all I could do was stare out the window at the sky and the trees while the last of my strength left my body. My vision faded and a numb cold took over my body. It was over, I was gone, and nothing anyone ever did could fix this newest mistake I’d made. I should have added an apology for leaving in my letters.


End file.
